


One Night (and then goodbye)

by GrimTamlain



Series: I Am Yours and You Are Mine [6]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Goodbye Sex, Heartbreak, One Shot, Smut, fits within my series, mentions of Harry Wells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 02:55:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30065598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimTamlain/pseuds/GrimTamlain
Summary: “One night,” he whispered. He pulled back just enough to gaze into her eyes, and her breath hitched in her chest. He leaned forward to brush his nose across her cheek to whisper in her ear, “Let me have you one more night, and I’ll give up control.”Oneshot. A rewrite of the exorcism
Relationships: Eobard Thawne/Original Female Character(s), Harrison "Nash" Wells/Original Female Character(s)
Series: I Am Yours and You Are Mine [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2167512
Comments: 7
Kudos: 3





	One Night (and then goodbye)

There’s something off about Nash.

The first time Persephone noticed was when he started avoiding her. At first, she was relieved; she hated him for being the reason that the multiverse— _Harry_ —was dead. The connection she had with all the Wells’ had led them into a dance that was nothing but confusing.

But she had started noticing his stares: dark, intense, _longing_ —but when she tried to confront him about it, he disappeared. There was something so familiar about the feeling those stares aroused, but when she thought she had it—he disappeared.

When Cisco had said he was going to the offices to go talk to Nash, Persephone felt her skin begin to itch. She paced the Cortex, running her hands through her hair.

Think. Think. _Think_.

_Remember_.

She felt her heart slam into her ribcage, her entire body shocked cold. She sank to her knees, clutching her chest, gasping for air as panic coursed through her. Wheezing as she breathed, she fumbled her phone out of her pocket, flinching as it dropped harshly down onto the floor in front of her. With trembling fingers, she dialed Cisco, feeling tears burn her eyes as she struggled to breathe through the panic.

“ _Seph, what’s shakin’_?” Cisco sounded cheerful, and she wheezed out a breath.

“Cisco! Cisco, it’s not—it’s not Nash!”

“ _What are you talking about_?” he laughed. “Who _could it—oh, hey, Nash! I was looking for_ —you’re not Nash.”

There was a commotion on the other line, and she felt fear race through her. Her voice was frantic as she shouted, “Cisco? _Cisco_!”

There was silence on the other end, and then what sounded like the phone being picked up. The voice that spoke on the other line sent both cold fear and scorching heat through her body.

“ _I am going to_ enjoy _seeing you again, Little Flower_.”

_Eobard Thawne was back_.

*

Persephone stood shrouded in shadows watching her friends talk with the man in the pipeline. Thawne was a great actor, she had to give him that. He had almost all of Nash’s mannerisms down, but she—and she hated to admit it—had spent the better part of her time watching the man and there was still something off. She leaned heavily against the wall with her arms folded as she watched.

And then she saw the wink.

“ _Don’t--_!” she screamed, lunging out of the shadows towards Cisco as he went to place the splicer against the gauntlet, her wings unfurling. She was so close—and then there was a bright flash of light that left her rooted to the spot as she was suddenly enveloped in strong arms.

“I’ve missed you, Little Flower,” Thawne purred in her ear from Nash’s body. She collapsed into him, with his hand in her hair, and his other arm around her waist. She let out a sob as her legs gave out beneath her. He sank to the ground with her, cupping her face in his hands, searching her face, thumbs wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Why are you doing this?” she cried, her fingers wrapping around his wrists. She looked up into his pale eyes, saw the surprise there from her words, and she batted his hands away from her face before lunging forward to wrap her fingers in the sun-bleached hair of the man she was starting to—she threw the thought away. Her voice broke as she started crying, “Give him back, Thawne. _Please_.”

His eyes were wide as he looked at her before his expression contorted with rage. His fingers wrapped around her throat, shoving her onto her back, looming over her. “What’s so good about Nash, Seph? He _killed_ your precious _Harry_.”

She cried out as he wrapped the fingers of his free hand in the feathers of her wing, a dark humor shadowing Nash’s normally pleasant façade as she arched up against him. She was panting heavily, her eyes clenched shut, pale skin flushed red, and when his fingers gripped her feathers tighter, she let out a desperate whine.

“Nash never—he never _used_ me, Eobard,” she panted, turning her face away from him. But then his fingers were gripping her chin, tugging her to look at him, and he swam in her vision against the backdrop of her tears.

“Say it again,” he whispered.

“ _Eobard_ ,” she breathed, feeling his hips jerk against her. A whine warbled in the back of her throat, as she clenched her eyes shut again; but then his lips were on hers. His kiss was still as gentle as she remembered, regardless of the chapped quality of Nash’s lips, and when he licked across her bottom lip, she parted them on a sigh. He licked into her mouth with all the leisured patience she remembered, languid and smooth, coaxing soft mewls from her throat. With a hand brushed down to her thigh, he lifted her leg to hook on his hip, slotting himself against her core, and she tore her mouth away with a panting cry, her fingers digging into Nash’s jacket. Her voice shook as she gasped, “Eobard, _please_. Give Nash back.”

He went rigid against her, his eyes narrowing as he sat back on his haunches. She covered her eyes with her arm, her body trembling as she tried not to give into him. He made a soft hiss noise, before wrapping a hand around the nape of her neck, lifting her up against him. He pressed his forehead against hers, sighing heavily.

“One night,” he whispered. He pulled back just enough to gaze into her eyes, and her breath hitched in her chest. He leaned forward to brush his nose across her cheek to whisper in her ear, “Let me have you one more night, and I’ll give up control.”

“How—how do I know you won’t—you aren’t lying?” she asked, her voice far more strained than she was expecting.

He huffed a laugh, pulling back to look down at her again, and she whined at the expression on his face. It was gentle, honest— _loving_ , and she felt tears slide down to her ears, her chest constricting around her heart. With his free hand he brushed the tears away on one side while kissing the tears away from the other.

“Because you asked me, Persephone,” he murmured, his voice soft. She searched his face, her eyes narrowing before she closed them.

“One night,” she acquiesced. She gripped Nash’s jacket tightly, lightning crackling to a glow in her eyes. “But you wear the power-dampening cuffs.”

He blinked at her, and then grinned. “Not such an innocent anymore, are you, Little Flower?”

She glared up at him, baring her teeth as her eyes began to glow purple. His wrists began to glow with her energy, his own eyes widening a moment before his pupils dilated as she tucked her wings away, pushing him away with her powers.

“ _One night_ ,” she hissed, standing up.

“One night,” he agreed.

*

She hadn’t forgotten how he was in bed. How gentle he was with her, how patient he was. But when he had her pinned against the bed of their bedroom in the sprawling mansion, he was almost frantic. Despite the chainless meta-cuffs on his wrists, he seemed to vibrate with the intensity of touching her again. Tearing her clothes off was new, the sound of the material ripping under his large hands sending heat through her body, his lips on her skin scorching her nerve-endings. She needed this just as much as he did.

They crashed together like waves on the shore, a tempest in their desire, and she moaned as he left bruises on her pale flesh, rougher than he had ever been with her, frenzied by her cries. She closed her eyes against the onslaught of emotions, the desperate need she had for him that had been locked away breaking free when he slid into her. With her powers to her advantage, she flipped them, her head falling back as she sat on him, driving him deeper than he had ever been, his hands gripping bruises into her hips and thighs, and she felt the burn of tears in her eyes at the way he looked at her, a haunting memory of the way he would look at her when he caught her staring at the moon all those years ago.

When her body stiffened as the crash of pleasure scorched through her, he rolled her gently, moving against her in that same gentle, patient way he had, she sobbed, the tears streaming free. He held her close, a hand on her lower back, the other buried in her hair at the back of her head, his lips like lightning against her throat. He panted against her neck as his body stilled, a growl reverberating through his chest, holding her tighter as she gasped for air around her sobs.

She had promised him one night, and she gave him that. When the sun rose, filtering dream-like into their once shared bedroom, he kissed her, still buried deep inside her. This kiss was so different from the ones she remembered; he still held her as if she were made of glass, but there was a sorrow within his touch that clenched her heart, constricting her in a way she thought she would die.

“One night,” he whispered against her lips. She whimpered pitifully, reaching up to grip his hair in a fist as she kissed him again.

“Eobard,” she breathed, feeling his arms tighten around her. As he licked into her mouth, sliding across her tongue, she whined, wrapping her legs around him. She had said one night, but part of her yearned for the ease of their relationship, of a future she had dreamed in silent fantasies. But he was Eobard, not Harrison, and this wasn’t his body.

She mourned for him when she felt the change of him receding back into Nash’s mind, Nash coming to the forefront. She knew it was Nash by the clumsy way his lips moved against hers, as if in a dream. When he was fully in control, he made a surprised noise in his throat, finding himself buried within her, wrapped up in her, kissing her. This woman—this goddess—so warm and pliant beneath him, tangled together in a way he had never thought possible.

“Seph,” he groaned as she shifted beneath him. Her small hands in his hair, tugging at the sun-bleached strands, made his head spin. He shifted himself, hands planted on either side of her head, lifting up and away from her honeyed lips to gaze down at her. When she opened her lavender eyes, it was as if all the oxygen was sucked from the room, an emotion in those purple depths he couldn’t fathom.

Her lips curled into a warbling smile, a mix of sorrow and relief when she saw him. She loosened her grip on his hair, gently scratching at his scalp with her nails; he felt chills slide down his spine, jerking forwards at the sensation. She made a sound, a soft sigh of a noise, that he had only heard once before, as she trembled beneath him.

“Welcome home, Nash,” she whispered, her eyes glistening with tears. She closed an eye as he wiped the tears from it with his thumb, calloused pad gentle against her.

“Where—” He cleared his throat, his voice raspy, and tried again. “How—”

Her bottom lip quivered as she clenched her eyes shut for a moment. When she opened them again, a rueful smile curled her lips, brushing her hands down across the width of his shoulders.

“All that matters,” she said, softly. “Is that your back in control.”

He sat back on his haunches, hissing out a breath as he felt himself still within her, harder than he could have expected in this situation, and let his gaze travel her body. She was a feast beneath him, a treasure he hadn’t been expecting to find; he brushed a trembling hand down her chest and stomach, watched the goosebumps erupt in the wake of his touch. His gaze alighted on a large bruise on her hip, wrapping his hand around it, a gust of breath punched out of him as he realized _his hands_ did this.

“Seph, I—”

“It wasn’t you.” Her voice was still gentle, placing her much smaller hand on top of his. He looked over the expanse of pale flesh, marred by bruises and hickeys that _his body_ had placed there. His gaze was wild as he met hers again, but the serenity within hers calmed him. She leaned up on her elbows, reaching up to ghost her fingers across his stubbled jaw. Her touch was soft, splaying her fingers across his cheek as she sat up more, her nose brushing against his, her breath warm on his lips. “I’m glad you’re back.”

His head jerked in surprise, and she huffed out a laugh as his chin hit her nose, pulling back to press her fingers against her nose. Her eyes sparkled with a teasing glow, sitting up further to push him backwards on the bed, until he lay flat with her on top of him. A sound rumbled in his chest as she swiveled her hips, driving him deeper into her. He gripped her thighs, just above her knees, his muscles bunching as he strained not to move.

“I thought you hated me?” He was impressed with himself that his voice didn’t squeak, but the humor that pulled her expression left him speechless.

“I do,” she laughed, leaning forwards to cup his jaw, her hair falling around them like a curtain. Her smile was soft though, none of the sharp lines that she usually gave him. Her tone was almost fond as she added, “You have to actually be here for me to hate you.”

He reached up then, finding comfort in their usual emotional dance, and brushed her hair back to hold it at the nape of her neck. He didn’t know when he had started having these _feelings_ for her, maybe they had always been there, but he knew she had them too.

“Seph, I—”

“Don’t ruin this,” she sighed. Before, he wouldn’t have heard the teasing lilt in her voice, wouldn’t have seen the delight that made her lavender eyes brighten. When she said she hated him, he _knew_ now, what it really meant.

As he stroked his thumb across her cheek bone, he allowed himself a moment to witness the portrait she made against the backdrop of the rising sun. _This_ , he thought reverently. This _is the prize_.

He flipped her then, pinning her beneath him on the bed, his hand splayed against her thigh, wrapping it around his hip, as he pressed into her. She had let out a squeal at the sudden move, but arched her back against him, her fingers wrapping around his shoulders.

“I _hate_ you,” she gasped, as he pressed her thighs up, rendering her unable to move against him, as he thrust lazily into her. His answering smile was smug as he leaned forward against her, warmth bursting in his chest at the affection in her tone.

“I know,” he rasped, before claiming her lips in a kiss.


End file.
